


Hollow.

by InsertACreativeNameHere__SlavicViking



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Angst, Berk - Freeform, Loss, Mourning, eret trying to be a buddy, established hiccstrid in the background, httyd 3, httyd 3 spoilers, post httyd 3, very back tho
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-26
Updated: 2019-02-26
Packaged: 2019-11-06 03:18:19
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,383
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17931806
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/InsertACreativeNameHere__SlavicViking/pseuds/InsertACreativeNameHere__SlavicViking
Summary: !!!HTTYD 3 SPOILERS AHEAD!!!He wishes he would feel more at loss, but as he looks at the skeleton of what used to be Berk, all he feels is empty.





	Hollow.

**Author's Note:**

> Did someone say ‘Hiccup returning to Berk 1.0’? No? Well, here you go anyways. Angst ensues.

Hollow.

It takes them a month.

He’s ready to kiss the ground when he sets his foot on the wet sand. His knees wobble and he knows he looks as unsteady as he feels. Eret clamps a hand over his shoulder and almost sends them both flying back into the ship, but Hiccup appreciates the gesture. He really does.

It’s quiet.

No one in their group of twenty is willing to make the first step. They stand in silence instead. Mourning, he realizes.

Hiccup wishes he could look away but his eyes are glued to the familiar buildings (and he can still pinpoint where everyone lived), to the slightly faded colors of the constructions he worked so hard to build. He can almost see the fire rising from the burned wood, _smell_ the smoke and hear the roars of dragons.

He wishes he would feel more at loss, but as he looks at the skeleton of what used to be Berk, all he feels is empty.  

Supplies.

Right. Yes. Supplies.

They were supposed to be getting supplies.

“We should split up,” he informs the others, not taking his eyes off the dragon baths. Meatlug loved those. He swallows. Distinctively, he hears the other Vikings mutter among themselves, dividing their tasks.

“I’ll go with you, Chief,” Eret practically pulls him by the sleeve. “We’ll take the forest.”

To keep him away from the village. How considerate. But he bites the comment back and lets Eret lead him away. He glances at the rest of the Berkians that came with them but they’re all too busy to notice.

A voice at the back of his mind nags him and reminds him he’s not really in control. As if he ever was.

By the time the sun sets, he and Eret find a good portion of the herbs Gothi needs but are unavailable that far west. Hiccup busies himself most of the time studying the notes the elder had given them. He’s distracted, he knows that, but if he looks up, he’ll notice the treaded path to the cove, and the place where Toothless broke the trees as he fell, and fields of grass they once landed in, and-

Gothi’s notes are a challenge to decipher. So he works with that.

He wonders what Astrid is up to. He misses her.

Their group sets a temporary camp on the outskirts of the forest.

There’s something mesmerizing in the flames dancing in the wind as they settle down, Berkian by Berkian, and eat their food. It works like an anesthetic; he feels even less.

They talk. It’s easy and comfortable. Sven and Egil compare their axes, Magnus swoons over his betrothed, Olaf praises his son’s hunting skills. So they talk. But never about dragons. Not about Berk, not about where they moved Berk _to_.

As if in three months they could erase six years. They did, much more, when the war ended. But it’s not the same - there is no joy in this kind of new.

Sometimes a child would point at the sky and enthusiastically announce that it’s dragon-shaped, right as their mother would push them to go faster. And _Berk_ doesn’t say a word. He wonders if it is to shield the child, or the adults, more.

He purposely ignores Eret’s look of worry when he pulls himself from the ground and announces he’s going to take a walk. A brief, nice walk. To clear his head.

Except he can’t clear his head when his mind remains blank. The burned buildings do nothing but drill the hole in his chest even deeper; they press onto his heart uncomfortably and hover over his shoulder. He’d ask himself ‘what could have been’ if he weren’t so damn exhausted.

He outright refuses to look at his father’s statue by the Great Hall.

(He takes a sideways peek behind his shoulder but no one has to know.)

The village looks the same but completely different. There are buildings that are completely untouched, and ones that have become mere ghosts of themselves. Gothi’s hut is gone, swallowed by the ocean underneath. Wooden planks that used to be stands for dragon racing feel like an insult thrown in his face in the way they protrude from the burned mess.

The Haddock hut is, noticeably, lacking a roof. Or, perhaps, it has a roof - but burned and in charred pieces fallen onto the ground floor of the house. Hiccup steps in, hand leaned heavily on the empty doorway, glancing around and not taking it in.

He eyes the ruined stairs skeptically before pulling himself up to the first floor. He gazes at the stars in the night sky where the roof should be for a little too long and a little too wishful before he takes a seat on his bed. It’s still unmade - how ridiculous. He sits like that for a while, hunched over and with his eyes closed, letting the night breeze wash over him, pretending that it has all the calming qualities that he needs.

He kneels by a chest at the foot of his bed once he opens his eyes again. His fingers drum on the rough surface, caressed by the cold air and swollen from humidity, before he clicks on the lock, prying it open. The insides are boring, like they should be. He blindly rummages through the clothes and silly items he had packed there through the years. His heart stops, just a little, when he fishes out a stuffed dragon toy.

He thought he threw that away a long time ago. Or that maybe his dad did, by accident.   

It lands in the satchel swung over his chest either way.

(He doesn’t acknowledge how the dragon combines Deadly Nadder’s snout with a Hideous Zippleback’s body and Monstrous Nighmare’s wings. He refuses to.)

A wooden duck lands beside the stuffed toy. Astrid will think he lost his mind completely when she sees it. So be it.

When he staggers back downstairs, he’s still somewhat surprised to see all the broken furniture and pieces of walls just laying there. As if they would magically fix itself.

Nothing ever does, does it?

He eyes the small axe on the wall. He shouldn’t… He doesn’t want to leave it here, either. It’s a silly thought.

He takes it anyway.

It shouldn’t be that surprising but he still lets out a soft ‘huh’ when the weapon is not unbearably heavy and he doesn’t feel like toppling over the second he grabs it. It stays secured in his hands, unlike when his father thrusted it in his arms, when it all started, when--

He glares at the piece of roof at his feet instead.

With the axe strapped to his back, he goes to the Hofferson house next.

It hasn’t suffered nearly as much as his own house but he can still pinpoint where a small fire broke out. He’s beyond grateful that the thing he’s looking for is in the usual place because there is something pressing hard on his chest and the longer he’s there, the worse it is. Two ornamented daggers nestle themselves by the duck and the toy, and he almost smiles. He knows Astrid has been missing them even though she never said anything.

Hiccup snatches the other half of Fishlegs’ cards that the boy missed while packing. Then it’s Tuffnut’s collection of recipes, and Ruffnut’s flute. Gobber’s tong prosthetic arm follows. Snotlout’s medal from one of the games his father used to hold lands in there as well. He remembers Spitelout throwing it out when they were leaving. Snotlout has been moping for a week afterwards.

No one at the camp says anything when he comes back with a protruding satchel at his hip. They understand.

They stay for a week in total. Enough to gather around what they could and stack resources for their long trip back. Enough to say goodbye.

“Let’s go home, Chief,” Magnus nods with a stern look on his face. Eret and a few other men ease the ship into the water.

Hiccup glances one last time over the place he grew up in, and exhales.

“Yeah,” he agrees quietly. “Let’s.”

And he realizes that this, what’s in front of him, is not home. Not anymore. This is a graveyard.

 

**Author's Note:**

> Originally I wanted to call it ‘Back to Berk One’ from ‘back to square one’ because, you know, puns.


End file.
